


Insurgent, Four's POV

by hatethesilence312



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatethesilence312/pseuds/hatethesilence312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is still a WIP. I moved it here from fanfiction.net. The beginning chapters are old, so if you see a sudden difference between chapter and the next that's because I took like six months between a chapter and took a creative writing course and wrote like four teen wolf stories and read a lot in between and, hopefully, improved.<br/>It's pretty self-explanatory. Look at the title. that's what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival

I cross my ankles over each other from my spot on the train, running my fingers through Tris' hair softly. Caleb eyes my hand suspiciously.

"It's time to get off," Marcus announces. I shoot him a look and ease Tris' head off my shoulder so it's leaning back against the train wall. I crouch in front of her and shake her good shoulder gently.

Her eyes snap open and the absolute fear in them makes my spine lock into place. Is she afraid of me? I realize there is another emotion there, too, one that I am unfamiliar with and cannot identify. She sucks in a sharp breath and holds it for a minute before exhaling in a sharp gust.

"Tris, come on," I say carefully, my eyes trying to see through her, to see what that other emotion was. I come up blank. "We have to jump."

She does not say anything, but she accepts the hand I offer and I pull her to her feet. I stay close to her side as we near the doors. I would hope that Peter is too tired to try anything stupid right now, but no one can ever be sure.

Peter is the first off the train, followed by Marcus. Caleb looks hesitant, but he jumps anyway. Tris wraps her fingers around mine, and I relax. The wind howls and it feels ironic. It is almost like the world is warning us about the danger ahead, when we just fought a war. We are not likely to be scared off now.

So we launch ourselves of the train.

The impact makes my knees shake—it's been too long since I've done that, I suppose—and I look over to see Tris' teeth biting into her lip forcefully. It's a wonder she did not draw blood. Her eyes scan the darkness and something about her expression changes. Her face warms and softens. "Okay?" She murmurs and I follow her gaze.

Caleb is sitting on the ground, rubbing his leg. He looks like a child who fell off his bicycle and scraped his knee. As if to further support my observation, he  _sniffles._

Tris looks away as though the idea of his injury physically pains her. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what it would have been like to have a sibling, to have someone besides Tris to love with everything in me.

And then Marcus speaks, and I am grateful for the lack of siblings. It would be selfish of me to wish for someone else to go through that.

"There are supposed to be Dauntless guards here. Where are they?"

"They were probably under the simulation, and are now . . ." I pause. "Who knows where, doing who knows what."

I go over and open lid to the keypad. "Let's hope the Erudite didn't think to change this combination," I say, typing the code in.

A second later, the gate clicks and opens.

"How did you know that?" Caleb asks, ever the Erudite. His voice is emotional, and for a minute, anger surges through me. He needs to learn to keep his emotions in check. We cannot have him sobbing if something goes wrong. And I have the sinking feeling _something_ will go wrong.

"I worked in the Dauntless control room, monitoring the security system," I tell him anyway, just because he is Tris' brother and it would upset her if I made him cry. "We only change the codes twice a year."

"How lucky," Caleb says flatly, and I do not miss the look he gives me. I fight not to clench my fists. Tris would notice.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I only worked there because I wanted to make sure I could get out."

I take a deep breath and Tris shivers in my peripheral vision, although I know it is not cold bothering her.

She takes the lead and I follow her silently, hoping I provide some reassurance, hoping I make her forget about the two potential dangers following behind us.

...

I watch the Amity headquarters come into view, lights shining through windows. We begin walking through a cave created by forearm-thick trees and soft soil. It reeks of mud, apples, and rain.

Marcus suddenly comes around to the front and I try not to cringe at his movement.

 _You are Dauntless,_ I remind myself.  _He can't hurt you now._

"I know where to go."

He leads us to Amity and he opens the doors without any security. I feel something in me stiffen anyway, prepare for a fight.

I see Johanna Reyes staring out a window. "Oh, thank God," She breathes upon seeing Marcus. She moves forward, arms outstretched as though to hug him, but she just touches his shoulders instead. It is a very considerate thing for her to do—respecting his Abnegation—but something in me wishes she would have hugged him anyway, just to displease him.

"The other members of your party got here a few hours ago, but they weren't sure if you had made it." She glances over at me, and then Tris, and then Peter.

"Oh, my. I'll send for a doctor. I can grant you all permission to stay for the night, but tomorrow, or community must decide together. And," She turns to eye me for a moment before moving on to Tris "they will likely not be enthusiastic about a Dauntless presence in our compound. I of course ask you to turn over any weapons you might have."

I immediately give her my gun. When Tris reaches for her own weapon, reach out and stop her, pulling her hand away from her back and lacing our fingers together to cover my move. It would be foolish to remain entirely unarmed.

"My name is Johanna Reyes." She offers her hand to Tris and then me. This woman is good—greeting Marcus like an Abnegation, greeting us like the Dauntless.

"This is T—" Marcus begins, but I cut him off.

There is no way in  _hell_ I am having a bunch of Amity know who I am.

"My name is Four. This is Tris, Caleb, and Peter."

"Welcome to the Amity compound." She turns to look and smiles. Something in her expression makes my stomach lurch. "Let us take care of you."

-...-...-

They patched Tris up and sent Peter off to go get healed. Tris clings to my arm, leaning heavily onto me. My arm tingles. I can feel the weight on her shoulders by the time one of the Abnegation gives her a pink-red liquid radiating heat.

"Drink this. It will help you sleep as it helped some of the others sleep. No dreams."

Tris does not hesitate. She chugs the drink down and something deep in my chest burns. She is afraid of having nightmares tonight. I lead her to a bedroom and she collapses into the bed. I walk to a room of my own think about her, about the way she was so willing to take whatever guaranteed good sleep.

If it had been offered to me, I would have taken it too.

There was no way I was avoiding nightmares—not tonight, not with Marcus in the same building as me. I collapsed into a bed and waited for the impending terror.


	2. The Decision

"Excuse me," A voice says, and I turn. She's a petite woman, her hair brown and curly where it fell to her shoulders. She was dressed in amity clothes and was holding out a dropper full of thick, clear liquid. "Could you please take this to the other Dauntless girl? Her shoulder was injured pretty severely, she probably needs the medicine."

I take it and slip it into my pocket. "Thank you."

She nods and smiles. "She should take a dropper every six hours. Oh, and there will be a meeting in half an hour to discuss the current situation."

I nod, too. "Okay. Thank you very much."

I turn and walk off to the room I'd dropped Tris off in. I knock softly on the door.

"Come in," she calls.

I only step halfway into the room, letting my eyes run over her. There are dark circles lining her eyes and her blonde hair is in tangles around her face. Her skin is pale, bloodless.

"The Amity are meeting in a half hour," I tell her, arching my eyebrows and trying to lighten the mood, " _To decide our fate."_

She shakes her head, "Never thought my fate would be in the hands of a bunch of Amity." And then a look of pain came over her face.

"Me either. Oh, I brought you something." I pull out the medicine and offer her the dropper, kicking myself for not giving it to her right away. "Pain medicine. Take a dropperful every six hours.

"Thanks." She takes it and squeezes the medicine into her mouth, her nose wrinkling a little at the flavor.

I feel out of place suddenly. I hook my fingers through my belt loops and fidget. "How are you, Beatrice?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Did you just call me  _Beatrice?"_

"Thought I would give it a try," I smile at her, "Not good?"

"Maybe on special occasions only," She smiles back, "Initiation days, Choosing Days. . ." She trails off.

"It's a deal," I say, and I can feel my smile fade. "How are you, Tris?"

Her face crumbles and for a second she looks like a child who wandered too far off path and cannot find their parents—terrified. "I'm..." She shakes her head fiercely. "I don't know, Four," She says, and it's like a punch to the gut to hear her call me that after all this time. "I'm awake. I..."She shakes her head some more.

I reach out and press my palm to her cheek, curling my index finger around her ear. Electric jolts run up my arm and I lean down and press my lips against hers, letting the fire take me. She wraps her hands around my forearm, holding on as though I were life support.

"I know," I breathe. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

She does not respond and her eyes glaze over. I let go of her. "I'll let you get ready."

-pagebreak-

I tense as Caleb comes over to me. We have not been left alone before. "I'm going to walk with Beatrice. I assume you would like to come."

"How Erudite of you," I say. "Let's go."

As we walked, he fidgeted. "So you and Beatrice," He says quietly. "You two are..."

"Together," my voice is firm.

He presses his lips together and turns his head away. We walk in silence the rest of the way.

When Tris opens the door, I feel my eyes bulge automatically. Her long blonde hair has been chopped off. It ends unevenly around her jaw, and I can tell she did it herself.

"You cut your hair," Caleb says blankly, and I try not to sigh as I wonder how he passed Erudite initiation.

"Yeah. It's ... too hot for long hair." But she chews on the inside of her cheek as she says it, and her eyes don't quite meet his. She's lying.

"Fair enough," He says anyway, and I cannot stop my eyes from rolling.

We walk without speaking, floorboards screeching beneath us, making me want to flinch. I have trained myself to be stealthy, to move quickly and quietly. All the training I have done is shot to hell here.

"Does everyone know you're Marcus's son?" Caleb asked suddenly, and I automatically tensed to avoid flinching at the name. "The Abnegation, I mean?"

I take a deep breath through my nose and try to speak calmly, "Not to my knowledge. And I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it."

"I don't need to mention it. Anyone with eyes can see it for themselves," Caleb frowns at me and I grind my teeth together. "How old are you, anyway?"

For a split second, I almost snap at him. His questions are personal, and I want to treat him like an initiate, want to get in his face and tell him there's a reason I didn't choose Erudite or Candor.

But this is Tris' brother. He is her family, and she loves him. I can see it in her eyes. He's all the family she has left and she needs him. If I mistreat him, she will get angry with me.

"Eighteen."

"And you don't think you're too old to be with my little sister?"

I grind my teeth and laugh bitterly. He cannot honestly think he's bigger or better or somehow more than  _Tris,_ the Dauntless with only seven fears. "She isn't  _your little_ anything."

"Stop it. Both of you," She snaps and I clench my jaw.  _Tris and Caleb are a package deal. Put up with him and she'll stick around._

We enter the building for the meeting and I look around. The factions are separated, automatically, naturally, and I notice Tris is carefully eyeing the Abnegation. After a second, she tenses and I see her throat work as she swallows thickly.

I reach out and press my hand against her lower back. Caleb's eyes lock onto my hand, but I ignore him, guiding her over to the meeting, behind the Abnegation. I lean in and press my mouth against her ear.

"I like your hair that way." I tell her, feeling the heat of her body radiate toward me, making me feel hot all over. My hand tingles pleasantly against her back.

She smiles just a tiny bit, but she leans into me as she sits, her arm pressed firmly against mine, fire shooting from my wrist to my shoulder. I do not wrap that arm around her as I would have liked. The Abnegation in her is still very strong, and I don't think she's that comfortable with public displays of affection quite yet.

Johanna lifts her hands and bows her head, silencing the entire room at once. The Amity all either close their eyes or begin moving their lips silently. It is bizarre. The Dauntless are all flash and noise, banging fists and screaming. It's easy to get caught up in, the excitement that fills the air. This is completely different.

"We have before us today an urgent question," She begins, "which is: How will we conduct ourselves in this time of conflict as people who pursue peace?"

I am almost relieved when the Amity begin talking amongst themselves in reaction to this. Sometimes the quiet is relaxing, and other times it is suffocating. Noise is familiar, noise is comfortable.

"How do they get anything done?" Tris mumbles.

The Abnegation tend to remain quiet and respectful during all meetings. It's more efficient and it would be selfish to disrupt someone's speech this way.

"They don't care about efficiency," I tell her. "They care about agreement. Watch."

The groups begin breaking apart and connecting with other groups until they form one giant circle, the volume decreasing until just a few people are speaking.

"This is bizarre," Tris grumbles.

"I think it's beautiful," I disagree.

She gives me a flat look.

"What?" I laugh quietly. "They each have an equal role in government; they each feel equally responsible. And it makes them care; it makes them kind. I think that's beautiful."

For a moment, I can almost see myself as a member of the Amity.

Then reality sets in, and I note the naked feeling of being unarmed. I am Dauntless.

"I think it's unsustainable," She argues. "Sure, it works for the Amity. But what happens when not everyone wants to strum banjos and grow crops? What happens when someone does something and terrible and talking about it can't solve the problem?"

I shrug, that was something I'd never taken the time to think about. "I guess we'll find out."

Soon, Johanna and the spokespeople begin discussing things in hushed voices.

"They're not going to let us argue with them, are they?"

"I doubt it," I say, although we both know they won't.

When Johanna stands alone in the front of the room, she folds her hands in front of her and faces us. "Our faction has had a close relationship with Erudite for as long as any of us can remember. We need each other to survive, and we have always cooperated with each other. But we also had a strong relationship with Abnegation in the past, and we do not think it is right to revoke the hand of friendship when it has for so long been extended."

Tris wipes her forehead with the back of her head. She's radiating nerves. I wish I could take her hand in mine, but she probably wouldn't like that.

"We feel that the only way to preserve our relationships with both factions is to remain impartial and uninvolved. Your presence here, though welcome, complicates that."

I twist my own hands together to try to remain calm.

"We have arrived at the conclusion that we will establish our faction headquarters as a safe house for members of all factions under a set of conditions. The first is that no weaponry of any kind is allowed on the compound. The second is that if any serious conflict arises, whether verbal or physical, all involved parties will be asked to leave. The third is that the conflict may not be discussed, even privately, within the confines of this compound. And the fourth is that everyone who stays here must contribute to the welfare of this environment by working. We will report this to Erudite, Candor, and Dauntless as soon as we can."

She turns and looks at Tris and me, her gaze locked on us.

"You are welcome to stay here if and only if you can abide by our rules. That is our decision."

I smile a bit automatically, relieved that we get to stay. Tris has a gun, and there is no way I am letting it get away from her. She needs to be able to defend herself.

"We won't be able to stay long," Tris mumbles.

"No," I agree, frowning, "we won't."


	3. The Talk

After the meeting, Caleb and I drop Tris off at her room and Caleb begins walking with me.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks. When I just look at him, he adds, "in private?"

I nod and push open the door to my room. He goes in and I follow behind him, pulling the door shut behind me.

"What are you doing with my sister?" He demands suddenly.

I turn to look at him, eyebrows raising. "Excuse me?"

"Beatrice. What do you think you're doing with her?"

"First of all, she prefers Tris now and I think you should respect that. Secondly, I don't  _think_  I'm doing anything with her."

"Look, B— _Tris—_ isn't the type of girl you can just play around with, okay? She's Abnegation. She won't survive her heart getting broken."

I laugh once, short and flat. "No,  _you_  look. She is not Beatrice Prior, your little Abnegation sister anymore. She's Tris, the Dauntless with seven fears. She's the girl who chose to be different, chose to be more than what everyone expected of her. You cannot believe she's still Abnegation! Sure, there are some aspects of her that are indeed selfless, but  _she_ isn't Abnegation, she's Dauntless, through and through. And as for her heart, you have  _got_ to be kidding me. Both of her—your—parents just  _died_ protecting her. She survived that, didn't she?"

I take a deep breath to steady myself, but he's speaking anyway.

"Yeah, she survived. But I see the way she looks at you, as much as I wish I didn't, and I just can't see her coping with their deaths  _and_ you mistreating her."

My head jerks back as though I'd gotten slapped. "Mistreating her? Where the Hell did you come up with  _that?"_

"You're an eighteen year old Dauntless  _man._ You are twice her size and you have  _tattoos._ I am Erudite. Did you honestly think I wouldn't know  _exactly_ what you want from her?"

I groan and roll my eyes. "For the first time, I'm seeing a bit of the family resemblance. You know that's exactly what she assumed too?"

"What does that mean?

"My goal is not to have sex with your sister," I spit, and Caleb's entire face turns bright red. "Believe it or not, I have actual feelings for her—you know, despite my age, size, and  _tattoos._ She's tattooed too, you know."

Caleb looks at his feet and folds his arms. "Yeah, I know."

"My tattoos do not change who I am. They don't change the fact that I am in love with her."

Caleb's eyes bug out for a second.

"Yeah," I snap as he fixes his expression. "I love her. She knows my flaws and yet she wants me anyway. I would die before I ever hurt her and I will do everything I possibly can to keep her safe and happy. If that isn't enough for you, you're just going to have to deal with it. I love her, and I'm not leaving her unless that is what she wants. And as of right now, she does not want that."

"You love her," he repeats slowly.

"You're supposed to be Erudite? Did you listen to a single word I said?"

"How can you love her? You haven't even known her a full year!"

"It's a long story."

"It can't be  _that_ long, you haven't known her long!"

I move over and sit down, leaning against the wall. "I'll start at the beginning. How much do you know about Dauntless Initiation?"

"Not much," He replies, "just that it's brutal and a lot of people don't make it."

"One of the first things Initiates have to do is jump off a building without knowing what they're going to land on. Tris was the first person to jump. That was a pretty amazing first impression, don't you think? The small girl from  _Abnegation_ was the first to throw herself off a building to become  _Dauntless_?"

Caleb's lips press into a hard line. "Was she suicidal?"

"No. She was brave. She made friends right away. I am one instructor. There are others: Lauren, Zeke, and Eric. Eric and I trained the transfers together, and one day Eric got frustrated with one of Tris' friends while we were teaching knife-throwing. Eric is sadistic and he told the boy get stand in front of the target while I threw knives at it."

"Why did he want you to throw the knives?"

"My aim is better than his. But anyway, Tris wouldn't allow it. She stood up and told him that any coward could stand in front of a target, that it wasn't proving anything. So he made her take the boy's place."

 _"You threw knives at my sister?"_ His voice is alarmingly angry and I roll my eyes.

"Relax. My aim is perfect; she was never in any danger. But Eric would know I went easy on her if I threw too far away from her, so I deliberately nicked her ear, just to prove her bravery to him. It worked. Eric was very proud and the boy got off the hook."

" _You cut my sister's ear with a knife?"_

"Easy there, Erudite. It was a slight nick. It barely even bled. It didn't leave a mark behind. She's fine. I wouldn't  _actually_ hurt her. And then something went wrong, some fellow initiates turned on her, and I saved her. I think that by the knives, I had feelings for her. Do you know what a fear landscape is?"

"I think I read about it once. Isn't it a room full of your worst fears?"

"Almost," I reply, "It gives you the fears one at a time and you have to either slow your heart down or face the fear to get out of it and to move on to the next fear. My fears are very personal, and I brought Tris with me into my landscape. She helped me get through it, and then I kissed her, and we have been together ever since."

"You're lying. You  _can't_ have that flawless aim that you just hit her ear perfectly."

I snort and get up, going to the tiny mini fridge that was wedged into the corner of my room. It wasn't customary to have the fridge, but the Amity saw me as one of Dauntless leaders and felt like giving me special attention. I pull a hunk of cheese out of it and grab a butter knife from on top of the fridge.

I stick the cheese on top of my dresser and return to sitting against the wall opposite of it. I lock my eyes onto the cheese, inhaling as I pulled my arm back, and exhaling as I released. The knife flew through the air and sliced cleanly into the center of the cheese.

Caleb's jaw dropped.

"I want to try!"

I scooted out of the way as he retrieved the knife and stood against the back wall. His grip was awkward, his elbow jutting out. He throws wildly and the knife point sticks into the wall.

"No, not like that," I laugh.

"What do you mean, 'not like that'? I imitated you perfectly," Caleb replied, very sure of himself.

"You did not."

"Well, do it again, then." He yanks the knife from the wall—with what looks like a lot of effort, nearly falling backwards afterwards, although the _butter knife_ had barely even stuck.

He hands me the knife and I throw it without even thinking. I don't focus on my breathing. I enjoy knife-throwing and it has been too long since I've had fun with it.

The door opens while I throw, and I turn my head to see Tris coming in the door. She watches me throw, and then looks at her brother.

Caleb gawks at the cheese for a second before turning to Tris.

"Tell me he's some kind of Dauntless prodigy. Can you do this too?"

"With my right hand, maybe," She says, although I'm confident that she could. "But yes,  _Four_ is a Dauntless prodigy. Can I ask why you're throwing knives at cheese?"

My eyes snap up to hers when she puts emphasis on my nickname and warmth floods my whole body.

"Caleb came by to discuss something," I tell her, leaning my head back against the wall and draping my arm over my knee. "And knife-throwing just came up somehow."

"As it so often does," She murmurs, her lips pulling up into a warm smile. Her eyes run over my body and I try not to fidget. When her eyes return to mine, I hold her gaze and feel flames engulf the room.

Caleb makes a choking noise. "Anyway, I should be getting back to my room," He says, eyes going from Tris to me and back. "I'm reading this book about the water-filtration systems. The kid who gave it to me looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to read it. I think it's supposed to be a repair manual, but it's fascinating." He stops talking and his cheeks turn a little pink. "Sorry. You probably think I'm crazy too."

"Not at all," I said in what he would think was a sincere tone, but Tris would know wasn't. "Maybe  _you_ should read that repair manual too, Tris. It sounds like something you might like."

'I can loan it to you," Caleb offers.

"Maybe later," She says, giving me a flat look as soon as he gets out the door. "Thanks for that. Now he's going to talk my ear off about water filtration and how it works. Though I guess I might prefer that to what he wants to talk to me about."

"Oh? What's that?" I raise my eyebrows playfully. "Aquaponics?" She seems happier now, somehow, than she was just an hour ago or so. A weight I didn't know existed lifted off my chest.

"Aqua-what?"

"It's one of the ways they grow food here. You don't want to know."

"You're right, I don't. What did he come here to talk to you about?"

"You," I say simply. "I think it was the big-brother talk. 'Don't mess around with my sister' and all that."

I pull myself to my feet.

"What did you tell him?" She asks as I start moving toward her.

"I told him how we got together –that's how knife-throwing came up—and I told him I'm not messing around."

Her whole face softens and she smiles a little bit. I am close enough to reach out and wrap my hands around her hips then, pushing her against the door softly. I lean in and press my lips to hers.

She wraps her good arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Her hand inches down my back, pressing under the hem of my T-shirt, her palm pressing against my lower back, fingers spreading out. I can feel my heart throbbing in my chest, beating out a disjointed rhythm.

I pull back long enough to rake in a ragged breath, and then I was kissing her again, more forcefully. My hands grip her hips like I'm holding a life raft.

I drag myself away from her. I don't get far. Her hand is strong and it's pulling at me at once, trying to keep me close.

"This isn't what you came here for," I state.

"No," she agrees, breathing hard against my face.

"What did you come for, then?"

"Who cares?" She replies, digging her fingers into my hair and pulling my face back to hers. I bite back a moan and kiss her, despite my good intentions. She's tugging at the ends of my hair, just enough of a slightly painful sensation to make me drown in the flames. Winged creatures are flying around my stomach, my chest closing up.  _I can't breathe._

I pull back just enough to get my lips to her cheek. "Tris," I mumble, trying not to groan as she absentmindedly runs her fingers through my hair.

"Okay, okay." She sighs and untangles her fingers from me hair. we move to sit side by side on my bed. She tells me about how she followed Marcus and Johanna into the orchard, about everything she overhead, and about the argument.

"Well, what do you think?" she asks after she finishes.

"I think," I say slowly, "that it's Marcus trying to feel more important than it is."

"So . . . what? You think he's just talking nonsense?"

"I think there probably is some information the Abnegation knew that Janine wanted to know, but I think he's exaggerating its importance. Trying to build up his own ego by making Johanna think he's got something she wants and he won't give it to her."

"I don't. . ." She frowns. "I don't think you're right. He didn't sound like he was lying."

"You don't know him like I do. He is an excellent liar."

It's true. I still remember the occasional times when we would go places together in Abnegation, the way he would put his hand on my shoulder and act like we were this happy family.

"Maybe you're right, but shouldn't we find out what's going on? Just to be sure?"

"I think it's more important that we deal with the situation at hand," I say. "Go back to the city. Find out what's going on there. find a way to take Erudite down. Then maybe we can find out what Marcus was talking about, after this all resolved. Okay?"

She nods, but something in her eyes is distant. She's keeping something from me. I don't like it, but I have to trust that she'll tell me when she's ready. I have to believe that. She is all I have left.


	4. The Confrontation

I am on kitchen duty, which is one of the worst possible jobs. It's overheated and small and I'm dumping elbows with the guy beside me as we wash dishes. I have to remind myself every few minutes to breathe, that the walls are  _not_ shrinking in on me, and the room is  _not_ getting smaller.

"You're Marcus Eaton's son, aren't you?" My coworker asks casually as he scrubs a plate clean. I look at him for a really long time and then take a deep breath through my nose.

"I do not see how that is any of your business," I say, taking the dish from him and drying it before putting it in the clean rack.

He chooses to ignore my response and continues as if I hadn't spoken. "I used to be Abnegation, you know. We transferred the same year."

I don't respond, jus take another plate out of his hands and dry it. We'd just shifted jobs twenty minutes ago—I'd been scrubbing and he was drying. You would think Abnegation would invest in an actual  _dishwasher,_ since they had an entire faction to feed, but no. "This method promotes communication and teamwork," they told me. "And teamwork and communication lead to peace." Well, this wasn't very efficient, and we'd been here all morning.

"I never really saw you much, growing up. I knew you existed, of course, but the only time you seemed to leave the house was to go to Marcus' political meetings. And that only happened sometimes, when he wanted to flaunt his perfect, happy family." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why did you transfer?"

"Again," I say tightly, "Not your business."

"My name is Daniel," He said casually, like we just met. "You can call me Danny."

I don't respond again, just keep drying.

"What's your name?"

"Four."

"No, it's not. It's Tobias."

I grind my teeth and keep scrubbing.

"Seriously, though, man, where were you growing up? Did Daddy keep you locked in the basement or something?"

I exhale sharply, as though I'd gotten punched in the gut. Before I had time to think, I had whirled on  _Danny_ and slammed him up against a refrigerator. A plate fell from his hands and shattered on the floor.

"You-do-not-know-me," I spit, pushing him harder against the fridge with each word. "Do you understand?"

He bobs his head up and down quickly, eyes wide, cheeks bloodless. I step back from him and push my fingers through my hair. The room is too small, the air too thick. Everything is hot and heavy in the worst way possible. My lungs are closing up.

"What is going on over here?" A voice roars, but it is too far away, and the room is spinning and a cold sweat has broken out over my skin and I am panicking.

"I think he's having a panic attack," Daniel says, but he is miles away.

"Get him out of here," The chef says, and Daniel grabs my arm and pulls me outside through a back door.

The air is crisp and cool and it feels a thousand times better. I sink to the ground and pull my legs into my chest, pressing my forehead against my knees. I take deep breaths for a minute or so and then carefully stretch out my legs and get up.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asks cautiously.

"I'm fine," I say, and I am. "Thank you."

His face closes off, becomes cold and distant. "Threaten me again and I won't help you next time."

"Thank you for getting me out of there, but I do not take back what I said. My personal life is  _mine_ and no one else's business."

"Is that the attitude you have with your girlfriend too? She's actually quite pretty. She has a strange face, but something about it is rather striking."

Anger bubbles up inside me and I glare at him. "Stay away from her."

He puts his hands up. "Keep the peace, man, keep the peace. I was just saying." He looks back at the door. "Go get something to eat. I'll finish up alone."

"Are you sure?" I ask, but I honestly do not know if I can handle the tight space right now.

"Go before I change my mind." And then he was yanking open the door and disappearing inside.

I pull my hands through my hair once more and go to the cafeteria to find Tris.

I feel the heat of her eyes the instant I'm through the door. I go to her and sit down.

"What happened?" She asks, and I can only imagine what I look like.

"In their enthusiasm for conflict resolution, the Amty have apparently forgotten that meddling creates more conflict. If we stay here much longer, I am going to punch someone and it's not going to be pretty." I think of how close I'd come to smashing my fist into Daniel's face in that kitchen.

Her brother and his almost-girlfriend make shocked faces and the people beside us stop talking and gape at me. "You heard me," I snap.

Tris smiles and reaches up to cover her mouth. "As I said, what happened?"

"I'll tell you later," I promise.

Just moments later, a terrifyingly familiar hand falls onto Tris' bad shoulder and her jaw clenches.  _He hurt her,_ something in my screams.  _You're letting him hurt her._

"She got shot in that shoulder," I say, and my voice is full of acid.

"My apologies," Marcus lifts his hand. "Hello."

'What do  _you_ want?" Tris demands, her voice angry and flat and  _that's my girl._

"Beatrice," Caleb's almost-girlfriend scolds. "There's no need to—"

"Susan, please," Caleb hushes her.

Tris gives Marcus a look. "I asked you a question."

"I would like to discuss something with you." The underlying anger in his voice makes my blood run cold. "The other Abnegation and myself have discussed it and decided that we should not stay here. We believe that, given the inevitability of further conflict in our city, it would be selfish of us to stay here while what remains of our faction is inside that fence. We would like you to escort us."

Tris blinks and looks at him for a moment, and then to me. I am unable to meet her gaze. It is pathetic, really, that this man turns me into such a coward. "What do you think?"

"I think we should leave the day after tomorrow," I reply, because that gives us enough time.

"Okay," He responds. "Thank you."

He leaves and I keep my gaze fixed on the table. Tris subtly drags her chair a bit closer to mine and reaches under the table for my hand. I rely on that, on her presence, like an anchor. She keeps me calm and fights off the panic.  _You'll be fine,_ I think.  _It doesn't matter that Marcus is here, because Tris is too. And she won't let you get hurt like that again. She loves you._

But a small voice in the back of my head reminds me that she  _hasn't_ told me she loves me yet.

That's okay, she shouldn't feel rushed. She's been through hell and back and she doesn't have to go out of her comfort zone. But I can't help but feel like I hung myself out over the Chasm, thinking she would reel me back in but she  _hasn't._ She's letting me dangle. I'm reaching, and I can only hope that she'll reach back.

I need her to reach for me.


	5. The Need

After breakfast, Tris tells me she's going for a walk. I would have believed her—I  _wanted_ to believe her, but the muscle in her jaw jumped the way it does when she lies.

I want to follow her, but I don't. She's my girlfriend and I need to respect her and her space. She'll tell me what's wrong when she's ready. Relationships are about trust. I'd trust her with my life. I  _should_ trust her with my heart.

* * *

 

I am a light sleeper. Sixteen years of abuse does that. Marcus would come tearing into my room in a fit of drunken rage. Hiding under the bed didn't help.

I shake myself away from such thoughts and squint at my now-open bedroom door. The shape in the doorway is far too small to be Marcus. It is extremely familiar. "C'mere," I murmur to Tris. She walks toward me slowly and I allow myself to take her in. She's wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. My eyes skim over her bare legs—it's more skin than I'm used to seeing—and she shudders a little under my gaze. Does it feel like fire to her the way hers does to me?

She climbs onto my bed and lays down facing me. It takes all my strength not to reach out and put my hands on her waist, to pull her closer.

"Bad dream?" I guess and she nods. "What happened?"

She shakes her head forcefully and clenches her jaw. I allow myself to stretch my hand out and place is over her cheek, cradling her face. My thumb traces her cheekbone.

"We're all right, you know," I tell her softly, trying to offer as much reassurance as I can without lying. "You and me. Okay?"

She nods, her lip shaking a little.

"Nothing else is all right," I whisper, leaning closer. That was an understatement. The entire world was burning down around us. "But we are."

"Tobias," She breathes, her voice thick with emotion. I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't, instead leaning forward to capture my mouth with hers.

It's become a reflex to kiss her back. My mouth moves with hers before my brain can even tell it to. I slide my hand from her cheek down to her waist the way I'd wanted to when she came in. My body burned with desire.

I make my hand keep moving, tracing along her jutting hip bone, down lower, to her thigh which is left bare from the t-shirt. Desperation and longing fill the pit of my stomach with a tense tingling heat. She shivers and I squeeze my eyes tight and try not to moan. She clutches at me, pulls herself closer and wraps her leg around my waist. A small sound escapes my throat in surprise—what happened to her fear?—but my body keeps going. Our lips move together as my hand slips under her shirt, desperate for more skin-to-skin contact.

_I need her._

A shaky breath leaves her lips and the sound shoots desire through me. She was all I could think about, all I could feel and taste. All I could hear was our ragged breathing. I press my hand against her back, pull her in even closer. My fingers run up each notch of her spine, bringing her shirt up with my hand. I wait for her to push me away, to fix her t-shirt and blush. But she doesn't. Our lips stay fused together.

I can feel the naked skin of her stomach touch mine where the friction had pushed my shirt up and there is nothing I have ever wanted more than I want her in this moment.

I break the kiss, ducking my head to kiss her throat. She tips her head back and clenches her hand into a fist around the fabric covering my shoulder. My hand curls around the back of her neck, her shirt as good as off. Our kisses are feverish, tongues tangling, and I feel her shaking in my arms, clutching at my shoulders tightly.

My fingertip brushes her bandage slightly and she flinches  _hard_ and yanks herself away from me, fixing her shirt.

She doesn't move away, though, and we sit there and pant heavily in each other's faces for a moment, and then a little whimper comes out of her throat and she's crying.

 _Freaking idiot,_ I think at myself and fight against the urge to pull her against my chest, to wipe her tears away and tell her how much I love her.

"Sorry," She whispers brokenly.

"Don't apologize," I say firmly and reach out, brushing tears off her cheeks with gentle, hesitant touches.

"I don't mean to be such a mess," She says, voice raw and cracking. It's like getting stabbed. "I just feel so..." She shakes her head like before.

"It's wrong," I agree. "It doesn't matter if your parents are in a better place—they aren't here with you, and that's  _wrong,_ Tris. It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have happened to you."  _Why couldn't it have been me?_ "And anyone who tells you it's okay is a liar."

A sob breaks through her chest and I can't stop myself from grabbing her, pulling her against my chest and holding her as tight as I can. I have no idea if this is what she needs, if this is helping her, but I know if I were hurting, there's no place I'd rather be than her arms.

She sobs wildly into my shoulder for a long time. I do not try to offer any more comfort. I do not  _shh_ her and I do not tell her it'll all be okay. Because she shouldn't have to  _shh,_ she has every right to cry. Crying can be beneficial. I can't tell her it's going to be okay, because I don't  _know that._ Everything could easily  _not_ be okay.

She quiets eventually and I run my fingers through her hair softly. "Sleep. I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you."

"With what?" her voice sounds sleepy and vulnerable.

"My bare hands, obviously."

She slips an arm around my waist and presses into me, inhaling deeply.

I hold her close as her muscles start to ease up and relax. I wait until she's completely slack against me, warm and almost sleeping—if she's not asleep already—and I take a deep breath and let myself whisper the words I have been wanting to say to her.

"I love you, Tris," I murmur.

She doesn't respond, but she also doesn't tense up or pull away. Maybe she's asleep after all.

I pull myself closer to her, pressing my face into her hair and breathing in her warm, comforting scent as I drift off to sleep.

I do not have nightmares of Marcus that night.


	6. The Peace Serum

Waking up with Tris in my arms is like nothing else. She’s soft and pliant, her body relaxed against mine. I stay like that for another half hour or so, just lying there, until I feel myself growing antsy. I get out of bed carefully, trying not to jostle her too much, and go stand in front of the mirror.

            I am halfway done shaving my face when I see her shift in the reflection. She sits up, curling her knees into her chest, and watches me silently.

            “Good morning,” I say without turning. “How did you sleep?”

            “Okay,” She replies, getting out of bed and coming to me. She wraps her arms around my waist, her forehead pressed to the base of my neck. I turn off the razor and put it down, placing my hands on hers, tracing the length of her fingers with the tips of my own.

            “I should go get ready,” She murmurs eventually.

            I bite back a sigh.  “I’ll get you something to wear,” I agree.

            I break away from her and walk out the door. I head down to the reception area of sorts and request a pair of small women’s shorts. The lady behind the counter looks at me funny but retrieves them and I head back to my room. Tris puts them on and then presses a kiss to my mouth and leaves.

            I resume shaving and then I change into one of the Amity outfits I’d gotten yesterday. When the fresh shirt was half on my head, I heard footsteps running in the hall. My stomach drops to the soles of my feet.

            I finish yanking the shirt on as I leave the room and sprint after the commotion.

            I let out an exasperated groan when I see Tris launching herself at Peter, an angry cry caught in her throat as Amity grab her by her arms and restrain her. She struggles against their grip, lunging forward and I push past the crowd.

            “Tris, calm down,” I snap. This is not the time or the place for her temper.

            “He has the hard drive,” She wails. “He stole it from me! He has it!”

            Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, I turn around and walk over to Peter. I put my foot on his ribs, pinning him in place, and reach down, pulling the drive out of his pocket.

            “We won’t be in a safe house forever, and this wasn’t very smart of you,” I tell him, my voice low and deadly, no longer Tobias Eaton. In that moment, I am Four again. It almost feels good, the cold detachment.

            “Not very smart of you, either,” I snap at Tris, and it’s easier to do this, to go back to being her instructor than it is to be her boyfriend. “Do you want to get us kicked out?” I demand.

            She scowls at me as the Amity man holding her begins pulling her away.

            She writhes in his grip immediately. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!”

            “You violated the terms of our peace agreement,” He says, his voice smooth and even. “We must follow protocol.”

            “Just go,” I tell her. “You need to cool down.”

            She looks around as if searching for someone to be on her side. When she didn’t find anyone, she gave up.

            I turn and walk away before anyone can say anything to me.

            Once back in my room, I drag my hands down my face. I know Tris has a hair trigger temper, I do too, but when you’re only allowed to stay in a play if you maintain peace, you can’t attack someone because they _took a hard drive._

            He sighs and heads outside. He’s working in the orchard today.

            He was only out there for less than half an hour before he hears her.

            “Four! Four! Where are you?”

            “Tris?”

            A hysterical giggle sounds from around the tree. I duck under a branch and see her. She beams delightedly upon seeing me and runs toward me, suddenly stumbling over and nearly falling. I grab her waist and she grins, pulls herself in closer.

            “What did they—” I begin to ask, because they definitely did _something_ to her, but she interrupts me by pressing her mouth against mine.

            I return the kiss, of course I do, but I stop it quickly, pulling back.

            She heaves a dramatic sigh. “That was lame. Okay, no it wasn’t, but…”

            She gets up on the tops of her toes and leans in again, but this time I reach out and press my finger against her lips, stopping her.

            “Tris,” I begin slowly. “What did they do to you? You’re acting like a lunatic.”

            “That’s not very nice of you,” She says, and she—I swear to god— _pouts,_ lower lip jutting out for a second before she relaxes. “They put me in a good mood, that’s all. And now I really want to kiss you, so if you could just _relax_ —”

            “I’m not going to kiss you,” I tell her. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”

            She pouts again— _seriously?—_ and then grins hugely. “ _That’s_ why you like me,” She exclaims suddenly and my head whirls, not following.  “Because you’re not very nice either,” She explains. “It makes so much more sense now.”

            “Come on,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’re going to see Johanna.”

            “I like you, too.”

            “That’s encouraging,” I say, my voice flat. “Come _on_ ,” I repeat, but when she doesn’t move I give up. “ _Oh_ for God’s sake. I’ll just carry you.”

            I swoop her up in my arms and carry her, bridal style, toward Johanna’s office. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. She starts swinging her feet wildly and my only thought is _I did not sign up to date a six year old._

When we get to the office, Tris speaks immediately, sticking her foot right in her mouth by saying, “You really shouldn’t cover up your scar. You look prettier with your hair out of your face.”

             I practically drop her on the floor. She giggles. I glare at Johanna. “What did you do to her? What in God’s name did you do?”

            “I…” Johanna peers at Tris, frowning. “They must have given her too much. She’s very small; they probably didn’t take her height and weight into account.”

            “They must have given her too much of _what?”_ I demand and Tris smiles dopily.

            “You have a nice voice.”

            “Tris,” I sigh, trying not to lose my patience. “Please be quiet.”

            “The peace serum,” Johanna says, ignoring our interaction. “In small doses, it has a mild, calming effect and improves the mood. The only side effect is some slight dizziness. We administer it to members of our community who have trouble keeping the peace.”

            I snort, I can’t help it. “I’m not an idiot. _Every_ member of your community has trouble keeping the peace because they’re all human. You probably dump it into the water supply.”

            Johanna doesn’t give me a response for a moment, folding her hands in front of her.

            “Clearly you know that is not the case, or this conflict would not have occurred. But whatever we agree to do here, we do together, as a faction. If I could give the serum to everyone in this city, I would. You would certainly not be in the situation you are now if I had.”

            “Oh, definitely,” I hiss. “Drugging the entire population is the best solution to our problem. Great plan.”

            “Sarcasm is not kind, Four.” She says cautiously. “Now, I am sorry about the mistake in giving too much to Tris, I really am. But she violated the terms of our agreement, and I’m afraid that you might not be able to stay here much longer as a result. The conflict between her and the boy—Peter—is not something we can forget.”

            “Don’t worry,” I snap. “We intend to leave as soon as humanly possible.”

            “Good,” She smiles. “Peace between Amity and Dauntless can only happen when we maintain our distance from each other.”

            “That explains a lot.”

            “Excuse me? What are you insinuating?”

            “It explains,” I growl through clenched teeth, feeling my anger like heat running through my veins, “why, under a pretense of _neutrality—_ as if such a thing is possible _!—_ you have left us to die at the hands of Erudite.”

            She sighed—how _inconvenient_ this must be, I think wryly—and looks out the window.

            Tris is the first one to break the silence.

            “The Amity wouldn’t do something like that. That’s _mean.”_

            I almost laugh at the idea that people would avoid doing something because it’s _mean._ No one cares about nice, not anymore. The only question is _what can you do to save yourself_?  Sometimes, _what can I do to save my family?_

“It is for the sake of peace that we remain uninvolved,” Johanna begins, each word chosen carefully.

            “Peace,” I spat. “Yes, I’m sure it will be very peaceful when we are all dead or cowering in submission under the threat of mind control or stuck in an endless simulation.

            She grimaces. “The decision was not mine to make,” She says slowly, “If it was, perhaps we would be having a different conversation right now.”

            “Are you saying you disagree with them?”

            “I am saying that it isn’t my place to disagree with my faction publicly, but I might, in the privacy of my own heart.”

            “Tris and I will be gone in two days. I hope your faction doesn’t change their decision to make this compound a safe house.”

            “Our decisions are not easily unmade. What about Peter?”

            “You’ll have to deal with him separately,” I say, and my voice is bitter. “Because he won’t be coming with us.”

            I take Tris’ hand and tug her toward the door.

            “Four,” Johanna says. “If you and your friends would like to remain . . . untouched by our serum, you may want to avoid the bread.”

            “Thank you,” I call over my shoulder as I pull Tris away. She skips the entire way.


	7. The Erudite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH this took a long time and was really scary to attempt, but here it is! Tris on peace serum continued. Sorry I suck at updating.

The first time I go check on Tris, she’s giggling. I open the door and sigh. “Are you okay?”

            She grins up at me. “I’m perfect. Except I’d be perfecter if you stayed.”

            I shake my head. “Do you want anything to drink? Water?”

            “No, silly, I just want you.”

            I look at her for a second, all smiles, happiness radiating from every inch of her. I wonder, briefly, if this is what she would look like if she were genuinely happy. If she wasn’t stuck in Abnegation, if she wasn’t afraid for her life the way she had been every minute since she’d left.

            If things were different.

            I shake the thought away. _Things_ aren’t _different. This is how it is, don’t waste your time with ‘what if’s._

“I have to work,” I tell her as patiently as I can.

            She frowns, but it only lasts a second. “Maybe you’re nicer than I thought.”

            “Thanks,” I  say. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

            “Okay!”

 

            The second time I go in the room, she’s spinning. On her feet and stumbling in circles, a hysterical sound stuck in her throat.

            “Stop that,” I say, walking over and catching her shoulders. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

            I guide her to the bed and once she sits down she clutches at her head and giggles.  “Whoa,” She said.  “You’re standing crooked. And the room is moving really fast.”

            “Close your eyes,” I tell her. “Breathe through it. It’ll pass.”

            “You’re not very happy, are you?” She asks after a moment, peering up at him with big eyes. “You seem angry all the time. I don’t like it. I want you to be happy. I’m sad when you’re sad.”

            I sigh. “I’m not—this isn’t a happy time, okay, Tris? Not right now.”

            She blinks up at me. “Why not? All times should be happy.”

            “They’re not. Not in the real world—“ I cut myself off. Why am I fighting her on this? She’s drugged. Nothing I say is going to resonate. And this isn’t even really Tris, she knows just how brutal the real world is.

            “I’ll be back in another hour,” I tell her again.

 

            The third time I go in, I barely get the door open before she’s flung herself into my arms, pressing a wet kiss against my cheek. “You came back,” She said, elated.

            “Of course,” I reply. “I told you I would.”

            “I know. You just looked kinda mad. You’re mad at me a lot.”

            “That’s not true.”

            She stares at me for a second. “Okay. Will you stay this time?”

            “I can’t, Tris. I have to work. You know that.”

            “You’re really pretty,” She gushes.

            I roll my eyes and duck out of the room. “Be back in an hour.”

 

            The fourth time I go in, she’s wearing my shirt and her shirt and pants are on the floor and she’s dancing around like a lunatic.

            “Tobias!” She sings, reaching out and catching my hands. “Dance with me!”

            I hold my ground and don’t budge despite the tugging. “Why aren’t you wearing your clothes?” I ask.

            She shrugs. “Yours are comfier. And they smell like you. You smell good.”

             I sigh heavily—I’ve been doing so much of that today, I briefly worry that I’m going to forget how to breathe normally—and pick up her clothes and hand them to her. “Put them back on.”

            “Can I come to work with you?” She asks.

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “You’re high,” I tell her. “You’d do more harm than good.”

            She looks _devastated_ by this and she drops down onto the bed and looks up at me with big eyes. “Really?” She asks in a small voice.

            I shrug. “Once you’re back to yourself you can help, but until then—”

            She bursts into tears so spontaneously that I jump.

            “You’re working so hard and I can’t even _help—”_

“Tris,” I take her hand. “It’s okay. You do so much for everyone else all the time, it’s okay to take a break.”

            She sniffles. “But you work just as hard and _you’re_ not taking a break.”

            “Tris,” I say again. “It’s okay. Really. I promise.”

            She smiles suddenly and I can’t help but wonder if the Amity are bipolar. “You’re so amazing,” She gushes. “You work so hard. You really are brave _and_ selfless _and_ smart _and_ kind _and_ honest.”

            I touch her cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

           

            I hold my breath as I enter the room for the fifth time.

            Tris is sitting on the bed—in her own clothes thankfully—hands clenched into fists on her knees, glaring at the wall with such intense force that I wouldn’t be surprised if she burned a hole in it.

            I let myself collapse back against the wall and let the air I’d been holding in. “Thank God.” I shut the door and press my forehead against it. “I was beginning to think it would never wear off and I would have to leave you here to . . . smell flowers, or whatever you wanted to do while you were on that stuff.”

            “I’ll kill them,” she says in a tone typically reserved for Peter, Jeanine Matthews, and anyone else who wants to hurt her or her family. “I will _kill_ them.”

            “Don’t bother. We’re leaving soon anyway,” I remind her. I don’t doubt that she’d try, and she’d just get drugged _again._ We have bigger fish to fry. I pull the hard drive out of my pocket. “I thought we could hide this behind your dresser.”

            “That’s where it was before,” She says impatiently.

            “Yeah, and that’s why Peter won’t look for it here again.” I pull the dresser forward with one hand and carefully push the hard drive into place behind it with the other.

            “Why I couldn’t I fight the peace serum?” She asks and _oh._ That’s why she’s so upset. She’s not just mad that she was loopy for a few hours. She is pissed because she couldn’t control it. If there’s anything Tris can control, it’s herself. But she couldn’t, not today. “If my brain is weird enough to resist the simulation serum, why not this one?”

            “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly, because I _don’t._ Why did Jeanine’s special serum work on me, allow me to control the simulation—nearly get me to kill Tris? I sit beside her. “Maybe in order to fight off the simulation, you have to _want_ to.” Because maybe I didn’t want to fight hard enough. I’d thought they were killing my Tris. Maybe my rage was clouding my will to fight.

            “Well, obviously I _wanted_ to,” She snaps, but she sounds unsure. And I can’t blame her. Our lives have been hell. Who would blame her for wanting to escape that for a while?

            “Sometimes,” I say carefully, wrapping my arm around her. “People just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.”

            There is a bit of guilt on her face and she seems lost in thought. I want to reassure her, promise her that it’s okay to want to be happy. _What the hell is wrong with our lives that she feels_ bad _about wanting to be_ happy?

            “You might be right,” She mumbles.

            “Are you _conceding?”_ I tease, trying to lighten the mood and make her feel better.  I let my mouth hand open. “Seems like that serum did you some good after all…”

            She shoves me. I don’t really budge, but I can feel the effort behind it. “Take that back. Take it back _now,”_ She says, and there is a small smile there.

            “Okay, okay!” I put my hands up, mock-surrendering. “It’s just…. I’m not very nice either, you know. That’s why I like you so—”

            “Out!” She yells, pointing at the door, but she is smiling now and warmth floods through me. I did that. I made her feel better.

            I laugh to myself and kiss her cheek before leaving.

*          *          *

            I finish up working and then I shower and head to dinner. Tris isn’t at the cafeteria, but I’m not sure I even expected her to be. I don’t know the side effects of that drug and I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept all day. I’d bring her some food on my way back.

            “Is Beatrice okay?” That’s Susan, offering me a cautious smile.

            “Yeah. They drugged her and she was pretty out of it for a few hours, but she’s better now. They wore off.”

            “They _drugged_ her?” Caleb demands. “The _Amity?”_

“Well,” I say slowly. “It’s not like it was a necessarily _bad_ drug. They put it into the bread. It’s supposed to make people happy. They kind of gave her too much since she’s so small. So she was pretty insane.”

            Susan drops the bread she’d been lifting to her mouth and frowns at it in disgust.

            “What do you mean by _insane?”_ Caleb is doing the protective brother bit again.

“She kept trying to kiss me,” I say flatly, meeting his gaze. A challenge.

            “Trying?” He raises an eyebrows. Taking my bait.

            “I wouldn’t touch anyone while they’re drugged.” I make my words hard and firm, no room for objections. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

            “No one would ever suggest you would do such a thing,” Susan assures me. I just keep my gaze on Caleb.

            And then Susan says, “Isn’t that her?”

            And my head snaps up.

            Sure enough, Tris is running through the cafeteria, slamming into people and shoving them out of her way. I lurch to my feet as she gets to me.

            She’s panting and her eyes are distant and I touch her shoulder, half supporting her and half searching for injury.

            “Erudite,” She gasps out.

            “Coming here?” I guess.

            She nods frantically.

            “Do we have time to run?” Because that is the most important question. I’ll figure out how she knows that later.

            “Why do we need to run?” Susan—endlessly innocent—wonders. “The Amity established this place as a safe house. No conflict allowed.”

            “The Amity will have trouble enforcing that policy,” Marcus speaks from behind me, and I clench my teeth hard to keep from flinching. “How do you stop conflict without conflict?”

            I bite down on the urge to say _You don’t know how to do anything without physical force, do you?_

            Susan is nodding now, though.

            “But we can’t leave,” Peter objects. “We don’t have time. They’ll see us.”

            “Tris has a gun,” I remember. “We can try to fight our way out.”

            Without waiting, I start toward her room. Like hell if I will let the damn Erudite win again.

            “Wait,” Tris protests. “I have an idea.” She scans the room. “Disguises. The Erudite don’t know for sure that we’re still here. We can pretend to be Amity.”

            I hate this plan, I hate any idea which involves pretending to be anything I’m not. But I don’t object, because it might work.

            “Those of us who aren’t dressed like the Amity should go to the dormitories, then,” Marcus states the obvious. “The rest of you, put your hair down; try to mimic their behavior.”

            We all depart and I hurry to tug on a red shirt and some frayed jeans. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, but I begin dumping Abnegation clothes into the trash.

            “Do you think the Amity will lie for us?” Tris asks from behind me, leaning through a doorway.

            “To prevent conflict?” I nod. “Absolutely.”

            Heat floods through me as her eyes run up and down my body. “Nice shirt,” She says, smirking.

            I wrinkle my nose. “It was the only thing that would cover up the neck tattoo, okay?”

            She offers me a nervous smile in response.

            When they arrive, there are about five Erudite and fifteen Dauntless. My stomach drops. My face is slightly recognizable to Erudite—I’m their enemy—but extremely familiar to the Dauntless. I’m their prodigy.

            The Dauntless Traitors have blue fabric on their arms to symbolize their alliance with Erudite. I take Tris’s hand and pull her to the dormitory.

            “I didn’t think our faction would be that stupid,” I grumble, aware of the irony— _they’re idiots because they’re siding with the faction known for their intelligence._ “You have the gun, right?”

            “Yes,” She assures me. “But there’s no guarantee I can fire it with any accuracy with my left hand.”

            I frown. “You should work on that,” I tell her. Even when I’m Tobias, I’m Four.

            “I will. If we live.”

            I frown. If only we could eat some bread now.

            I trace her arms with my hands, wondering if it paints them with fire the way it warms me. “Just bounce a little when you walk,” I kiss her forehead, “and pretend you’re afraid of their guns,” I press my lips between her eyebrows, “and act like the shrinking violet you could never be,” I kiss her cheek, “and you’ll be fine.”

            “Okay.” She grips the collar of my shirt and pulls my lips to hers. The moment is interrupted by the bell that summons Amity to moderately informal meetings at the dining hall.

            I watch Tris undo Susan’s hair—that girl has _no_ survival instincts—and Susan smiles kindly at her.  

            Tris works her way through the crowd of silent Abnegation. “Tell the kids to play tag,” She tells a woman.

            “Tag?”

            “They’re acting respectful and . . . Stiff.” I see Tris tense as she says the word, but she continues anyway. “And Amity kids would be causing a ruckus. Just do it, okay?”

            Kids take off moments later, yelling things like, “I touched you! You’re _it!”_ and “No, that was my sleeve!”

            Caleb starts flirting with Susan, making her giggle like a school girl. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Tris fidgets a little, loosening her shoulders and letting her arms swing while she walks.

            I easily catch up so I’m beside her. I keep some distance, not wanting us to get caught, but I don’t want to risk losing sight of her in the crowd.

            When we enter the sight of the armed Dauntless traitors,  Tris stiffens. I bite back a groan and am about to move to her side when Susan loops an arm through hers and whispers in her ear. Tris covers her mouth and lets out a high pitched giggle that makes me cringe.

            It’s not Tris’s real laugh, but the only people who would notice are the people who know Tris. Not these traitors.

            When we sit, I sit across from her and resist the urge to hook my ankle around hers. We don’t really do PDA and I’m not sure how she would feel about even such a small gesture when she is so stressed.

            We both pretend to be involved in conversations, but our eyes keep meeting. I can feel the fear in her gaze, and I know it’s reflected in mine. I just hope no one else sees it.

            I see Johanna and an Erudite woman come in, but I don’t look. Because an Amity wouldn’t be too concerned. They wouldn’t be paranoid.

            Someone bangs on a table and it goes quiet.

            The opposite reaction from Dauntless. If someone had pounded on a table in Dauntless, everyone else probably would have joined in.

            “Our Erudite and Dauntless friends are looking for some people,” Johanna says. “Several members of Abnegation, three members of Dauntless, and a former Erudite initiate.” She forces a smile. “In the interest of full cooperation, I told them that the people they were looking for were, in fact, here, but have since moved on. They would like permission to search the premises, which means we have to vote. Does anyone object to a search?”

            _Yes,_ I think, but I keep my mouth shut. There is no need to draw attention to myself.

            When no one objects—everyone is too scared—Johanna nods to the Erudite woman who takes charge quickly. “Three of you stick around,” She tells the traitors. “The rest of you, search all the buildings and report back if you find anything. Go.”

            Someone walks behind Tris, and their eyes run right past her. I feel relief in every inch of my body. She is small and blonde and soft and feminine to the blind eye. They have to reason to question her.

            I am everything she is not.

            I am all hard edges, inked skin, thick muscles, and broad shoulders. My biceps _alone_ make me suspicious. The Amity have no reason to work out.

            “Your hair is pretty short for an Amity,” A female voice says from behind me and my blood boils.

            “It’s hot,” I snap and I know at once that I just ruined everything.

            A finger runs down my neck, pulling back the collar of the shirt and I jerk at the touch, grabbing the woman’s wrist and yanking. I debate breaking it and decide against it, letting her hit her head and collapse instead.

            A kindness, really.

            A gunshot sounds across the room and everyone dives down.

            _Except Tris._

I grab the woman by the back of her neck and yank her up, ripping the gun out of her hand. I use her as a human shield and shoot the Dauntless soldier across the room.

            _Tris is just standing there, wide-eyed._ “Tris!” I scream. “A little help here?”

            She yanks her shirt up to reach for her gun and then _freezes._

_What the hell?_

Caleb grabs her gun, and I’ve never liked him more.

            He shoots the Dauntless man closest to him in the knee. He falls, and I shoot him in the head.

            I aim at the Erudite woman.

            “Say another word and I’ll shoot.”

            She opens her mouth but doesn’t speak.

            “Whoever’s with us should start running,” I announce and the Abnegation get up and start exiting. Caleb tugs Tris to her feet from where she was _still sitting at the goddamn table._

The Erudite woman lifts a small gun and shoots toward Tris. She dives, shoving Peter, in front of her, and the bullet misses them both, hits the wall.

            “Put the gun down,” I growl. “I have _very_ good aim, and I’m betting that you don’t.”

            She drops the gun. I walk backward through the door, keeping my gun aimed at her. I slam the door between us and then we break into a run.

            We go through the orchard, ignoring the shouts and slamming car doors behind us.

            Tris is gasping and I reach out and grab her hand.

            “Split up!” Marcus yells, and I don’t bother demanding to know who died and put him in charge.  I’m running off with Tris as she grabs her brother’s arm. Susan lags a bit behind us.

            Gunshots repeatedly sound behind us. People are dying.

            We reach the fence and I push along it until I find a hole. I hold it back and allow Caleb, Susan, and Tris to crawl through it first. I dive through after them.

            “Where are the others?” Susan whispers.

            “Gone,” Tris says, and her voice is hard.

            Susan starts sobbing and I grab Tris and pull her close because we survived. We survived again.

            We begin following the train tracks.

            “I have to . . . stop. . .” Susan gasps out behind us, so we stop. She collapses and sobs. Caleb drops down next to her. Tris and I stare at the city.

            We left behind a lot of innocent people. People Tris and I knew, grew up around. It says something that the thought doesn’t really upset me much. It should.  I should feel awful. But I don’t.

            In fact, I just feel angry.

            I turn my anger on Tris, because _seriously._

“What was that, Tris?”

            “What?”

            _What? What?_

“You froze!” I all but yell the words. “Someone was about to kill you and you just _sat_ there.” Okay, I’m yelling now. “I thought I could rely on you to at least save your own life.”

            She doesn’t hear the words I can’t say.

            _Don’t make me lose you too._

_I’ve lost everything else. Not you too._

“Hey,” Caleb snaps. The only other thing Tris has left. “Give her a break, all right?”

            “No,” I respond. Because he doesn’t know her the way I do. Not anymore. He hasn’t seen how she’s reacted to fear before. He hasn’t seen how remarkable she can be. He doesn’t know how wrong her behavior earlier was. “She doesn’t need a break.” _She’s human, too. Her parents just died. Be Tobias, don’t be Four,_ I remind myself. “What happened?” I ask more gently.

            She stares at me for a minute and then clears her throat. “I panicked. It won’t happen again.”

            But her voice is weak, more like she’s convincing herself than me. I raise an eyebrow.

            “I won’t,” She repeats more firmly.

            “Okay. We have to get somewhere safe. They’ll regroup and start looking for us.”

            “You think they care that much about us?” Tris wonders.

            “Us, yes. We were probably the only ones they were really after, apart from Marcus, who is most likely dead.” The targets survived. The innocent bystanders died. Isn’t that the way it always goes anymore?

            Tris stares at me, probably trying to see some sort of response to my father’s potential death.

            The truth is, I don’t really _have_ a reaction. I’m not going to grieve for the father that could have been. I’m not going to celebrate his death. I’m not going to let him have that much sway over me either way.

            “Tobias…”

            “Time to go.”

            Caleb drags Susan up to her feet and forces her to keep going.

            Tris and I move the way we were trained to, react the way we were taught. We are Dauntless, we are brave. We are soldiers. Caleb knows Tris is all he has left. So he will follow her. And he will force Susan to move with us.

            She wouldn’t make it without him. He wouldn’t make it without Tris. But I’m confident Tris could make it without _any_ of us. And I likely would do the same.

            I’ve made a lot of mad decisions in my life, but choosing Dauntless wasn’t one of them. I see that now.


End file.
